And in any case, one lies well when one loves, about oneself and to oneself: one seems to oneself transfigured, stronger, richer, more perfect, one is more perfect -.....But we should go wrong, if we stopped with its power to lie: it does more than imagine, it even transposes values. And it is not only that it transposes the feeling of values: the lover is more valueable, is stronger........The lover becomes a squanderer: he is rich enough for it. Now he dares, becomes an adventurer, becomes an ass in magnanimity and innocence, he believes in God again, he believes in virtue, because he believes in love: and on the other hand, this happy idiot grows wings and new capablities, and even the door of art is opened to him.Tätä tekstiä uudestaan lukiessa en ole parhaalla tai edes pahemmallakaan tahdolla voinut välttyä tuntemukselta, että Nietzsche näkee jälleen kerran minunkin lävitseni - juuri näinä hektisinä aikoina...IIIDo you desire the most astnonishing proof of how far the transfiguring power of intoxication can go? - 'Love' is this proof!: that which is called love in all the languages and silences of the world. In this case, intoxication has done with reality to such a degree that in the conciousness of the lover the cause of it is extinguished and something else seems to have taken its place - a vibration and glittering of all the magic mirrors of Circe -Here it makes no difference whether one is man or animal, even less one has spirit, goodness, integrity.

If one is subtle, one is fooled subtly. If one is coarse, one is fooled coarsly; but love, and even the love of God, the saintly love of 'redeemers souls', remains the same in its roots; a fever that has good reason to transfigure itself - And in any case, one lies well when one loves, about oneself and to oneself: one seems to oneself transfigured, stronger, richer, more perfect, one is more perfect - Here we discover it in the most angelic instinct, 'love', we discover it as the greatest stimulus of life - art thus sublimely expedient even when it lies -.But we should go wrong, if we stopped with its power to lie: it does more than imagine, it even transposes values. And it is not only that it transposes the feeling of values: the lover is more valueable, is stronger. In animals this condiditon produces new weapons, pigments, colours, and forms, above all new movements, new rhytms, new love calls and seductions. It is no different with man. His whole economy is richer than before, more powerful, more complete than in those who do not love. The lover becomes a squanderer: he is rich enough for it. Now he dares, becomes an adventurer, becomes an ass in magnanimity and innocence, he believes in God again, he believes in virtue, because he believes in love: and on the other hand, this happy idiot grows wings and new capablities, and even the door of art is opened to him. If we subtracted all traces of this intestinal fever from lyricism in sound and word, what would be left of lyrical poetry and music? - L´art pour l´art perhaps: the virtuoso croaking of shivering frogs, despairing in their swamp - All the rest was created by love -(The Will to Power, §808)*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phaedrus_(Platon)